


Birds Do It

by HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is Clueless, Castiel not in the trench coat, Crack, DO NOT FUCK THE ROCK, Dean is clueless, Gabriel gives terrible advice, M/M, Malachite is poisonous, One Shot, Penguin gifts, angel mating habits, bad singing, malachite dildos, puffy jackets, unedited, unintentionally erotic hand gestures, written inside an actual national park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 01:41:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7413613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Angels have some Pretty animal-ish mating habits. Showy dances, singing, things like that. And it varies from angel to angel. So Castiel tries several different things to woo Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds Do It

 

Sam knew. That god damn son of a bitch _knew._ The whole time. From the very beginning. Every time Cas would show up and do some random-ass thing Dean would spend the rest of the day frowning at the double yellows and Sam would be over there on his half of the car _laughing_ like he thought it was funny that their angel was losing his goddamn mind.

Cas always had a personal space thing- Dean could forgive him that, the dude was like a million years old, and even _Dean_ had travelled enough to know that socially acceptable distances varied by geographic location. And it got a little weird with Cas because he was always just kinda at Dean’s shoulder, almost touching, not quite touching. Like their _clothes_ were touching, he was that close.

And Dean could have dismissed that as just a Thing that Cas Did except Cas didn’t do it to Sam. It took him a couple months to suss that gem out and when he’d mentioned it to Sam, Sam had clenched his jaw and gone a funny color and Dean hadn’t mentioned it again.

It was probably because Sam was an abomination and Cas was worried the fucking moose would stop paying attention and crush him to death by accident. Which Dean would never do.

And then one day they were coming off a hunt and Dean climbed into the car and Castiel climbed in behind him and the next thing he knew, Cas was picking things out of his hair. Like, little leaves and twigs and pine needles and shit he’d picked up in the woods. Shit a shower would have gotten out just fine, but when he told Cas that, Cas had just responded that he was almost done and had gone back to pulling pine needles out of his hair.

 _Sam’s_ pine needles were left intact, he noticed but did not mention because Sam was giving him one of those looks again. The pleased-yet-confused looks Sam had started giving him sometimes when Cas was around. Dean thought it was probably because he was doing such a good job of not overreacting to Cas’s weirdness.

 

Cas got a new coat.

That’s not right.

Cas actually got a _succession_ of new coats, and Dean asked him if he was having trouble regulating the temperature of his vessel and Castiel looked confused and said no, and went back to smiting demons from the inside of his puffy purple jacket. He looked like an angry gay marshmallow and Dean told him so. Cas frowned, like he wasn’t sure what to do with that information, and the next time he showed up, the purple jacket had been replaced by an honest-to-god _yellow raincoat_. He showed up at a restaurant and Sam choked on a cherry tomato and Dean slapped him on the back and asked Cas where he’d even _found_ such a monstrosity.

The answer to that was apparently his brother Gabriel, who had terrible taste and a fair number of connections to people in “the industry.” Castiel actually used air quotes when he described this. Dean asked for clarification and Castiel fixed him with a stare and said he didn’t know; that’s how Gabriel had explained it to him. “The Industry.”

Sam started coughing again.

After that discussion Castiel retrieved his plain old trench coat from whatever heavenly locker room he’d stashed it in and didn’t say anything else about getting clothing advice from Gabriel’s industry friends.

 

And that’s when the rocks started showing up.

The first one was left on Dean’s honest-to-god pillow, some weird multicolored square looking thing. Dean picked it up with a demon blade and a pillowcase and hurled it into the trash incinerator and he and Sam spent the next three days checking the bunker for hex bags while Sam interrogated him for details on what exactly the thing had looked like.

It wasn’t until two weeks later that Cas entirely-too-casually asked if he liked the bismuth and Dean connected the two things. He looked to Sam to back up his ‘burn first ask questions later’ approach to unknown items, but Sam only looked at him pitifully and told him to apologize.

So Dean did. In his own way.

Two days later he was rewarded with a smooth piece of glass the size of his fist, shot through with what looked like hairs of gold.

Cas called it “rutilated quartz.” He was glad Dean liked it.  

 

 

“You gotta say something to him, man.”

“Why me? He left it for you.” Sam paused, then grinned. “Maybe he’s trying to tell you something.”

Dean leveled a finger at his brother.

“No, he is not. Not at all. And it’s on you because you’re the one with all the sensitive feely talky bullshit so you need to explain why this is a problem.”

“It’s just a _rock,_ ” Sam replied, being deliberately obtuse. Dean held out the stalactite.

“This is a dildo, Sam. Look at it. It’s a dildo if I have ever seen one.”

“ _Have_ you ever seen one?” Sam asked and then they were interrupted by Castiel, who appeared suddenly in a flutter of feathers.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hello Cas,” Dean replied, staring meaningfully at Sam. He realized he was still holding the stalactite and he set it down quickly with an audible _thump._ Cas tilted his head.

“You don’t like malachite? I thought the green was rather pleasant, myself.” Castiel was making uncomfortably direct eye contact. “I’m very fond of green.”

“I think it’s wonderful, Cas,” Sam said with a wide grin. He closed his laptop and rose from the table. “I think you should tell Dean all about it, but unfortunately I have something else I need to do.”

“What do you need to do?” Dean asked, refusing to give his brother an easy way out. “Maybe Cas and I could come with you.”

“No no. This is something I definitely need to do alone while you two stay here and discuss malachite di- stalactites.”

Samantha flounced off and Dean made a mental note to put itching powder in his body wash. His eye caught the stone on the table.

“It’s, uh… it’s nice, Cas,” he said lamely. Castiel picked it up off the table, his fingers wrapping loosely around the girth.

“I thought so. I found it in a cave. There were hundreds of them of varying sizes and shapes, but I found myself drawn to this one.” His fingertips traced the whorls and lines of the malachite. Dean swallowed heavily. “It didn’t look like this originally. It was somewhat rougher, when I originally found it. I’ve polished it to make the lines show up more clearly.”

This is where the final straw landed on the camel’s back, because Cas started to fucking _stroke_ the thing to demonstrate how he’d _polished_ it and Dean snatched it out of his hands.

Possibly not the best move because now he was holding it and for some reason it seemed _warm-_

“Why are you doing this, Cas?”

Cas narrowed his eyes, giving Dean that sideways bird-look.

“I thought you liked it?”

“I do like it. But you’ve been acting weird these last couple months and I want to know why.”

“Weird?”

Dean sighed.

“The grooming, the clothes, and now the rocks. And the rocks are cool, don’t get me wrong, but. You know. Weird. Why?”

Castiel fidgeted.

“I just thought you’d like it. That’s all.”

“Cas,” Dean said quietly. “Why are you bringing me rocks you think I’d like?”

A pause.

“Isn’t the answer to that question self-contained?”

‘Dammit, Cas!”

Dean could almost see bulkhead doors slamming shut behind Castiel’s eyes. He tried a softer approach.

“I mean, why _me,_ Cas. I’ve had to get Sam to identify half these things. I mean, they’re cool, but I can’t really appreciate them because I don’t even know what they are. So maybe Sam…?”

“Penguins do it,” Castiel said quietly. Dean paused, trying to connect their current conversation to the topic of penguins. He wasn’t getting the connection.

“Sorry, what?”

“Penguins,” Cas mumbled. “They move pebbles around. There isn’t a whole lot down there, you know, just snow and ice. And rocks. So that’s what they give, they search through piles and piles of pebbles to find one ideally suited and then they give it to their- to their mate. They’ve got nothing, nothing, but pebbles, and so they give pebbles.”

“Cas, buddy, I’m totally lost here. Why are you acting like a penguin?”

“I don’t know what kind of angel I am.”

Which, again. Did not make the situation clearer, at all.

“Are some angels…. penguins?”

“Some angels attract their mates by bringing them stones. Some change plumage, some engage in social grooming…” Cas trailed off, frowning. “Some birds engage in complicated dances, but I did not find any which came naturally to me. And my attempt to compose a love song shattered windows for several surrounding blocks and Gabriel said that probably wasn’t my strong suit.”

“Hold up- Gabriel? Your brother Gabriel? He put you up to all this?”

Castiel nodded.

“Yes, he made sure to tape all the potential mating dances so I could review them later. He attempted to record my ballads as well but the camera did not survive the second verse.”

“And he told you that you could attract your mate by wearing all those jackets.”

Cas was nodding vigorously now. Dean was trying very hard not to burst out laughing.

“He also suggested the polished malachite. I was leaning toward a large gypsum rose, personally.”

“He told you…” Dean clenched his teeth, trying to keep the laughter in. Cas was so _serious,_ it was obvious this was important to him. “He told you… to pick a malachite stalactite?”

“Yes! He said my mate would be very interested in seeing a demonstration of how I polished it.”

Dean couldn’t hold in the laughter any more, his brain serving up the image of Castiel staring stone-faced as Gabriel demonstrated how to polish a stalactite crystal.

The gasps of laughter turned to choking coughs as he realized suddenly that Castiel had been doing all his weird shit in a misguided attempt to attract a _mate_ and he’d been doing all his weird shit _exclusively to Dean._

“Do you need help?” Castiel asked when a moment had gone by and Dean was still making that strangled choking sound.

“You were trying to attract a _mate?_ You were trying to attract me as your _mate?_ ”

Castiel frowned.

“I had hoped for this revelation to be a good deal more subtle. Sam said you weren’t particularly prone to subtlety, but I had no _idea-_ ”

“Hold up. _Sam_ said?” Sam _and_ Gabriel had been giving Cas advice? “Is there anybody who _didn’t_ know you had designs on me?”

Castiel paused.

“I thought it best not to involve Benny.”

“Oh. Well. Thank God for that.”

Dean was resting his face in his hands, rubbing his temples with his fingertips and trying to remember if his high school sex ed class had covered penguin pebble courtship etiquette.

Cas was being quiet. Dean glanced up at him. The angel was looking steadily at the malachite still in Dean’s hands.

“Cas, I…”

“It’s fine. Sam said that you might be uncomfortable when you finally realized. Something about rigid gender roles. I was adequately prepared for this eventuality.” Cas nodded. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll-”

“Wait!”

Cas was staring at him expectantly and Dean had no idea what to say. He looked down at the hard green phallus in his hands; it provided him with no answers.

“Gabriel told you to give me this because it looks like a dildo, Cas. He was making fun of you.”

Castiel tilted his head at the statue. His eyes widened.

“The act of polishing the statue resembles manual stimulation of the penis,” he concluded. Dean chuckled.

“Yeah. And dude, even though you’ve demonstrated that you can quite literally work my knob to a high shine, I’m not really into that.”

“I would think not. The sandpaper I used was _incredibly_ abrasive-”

“Stop! Stop stop stop stop!” Dean clapped his hands over his ears, his balls retreating involuntarily into his body. He checked to make sure Castiel had stopped talking, then hesitantly uncovered his ears.

“What I mean is… I don’t think of you like that, Cas. I mean, just as a starting point, we’re both dudes. So if you want somebody to… help you make angel eggs or whatever… wouldn’t you need…. I dunno… a girl?”

“Angels don’t reproduce via eggs.”

“What, then? Mitosis?”

“We don’t reproduce at all. When our Father needs additional angels he just creates more.”

“So then, what are you doing trying to attract a mate?”

Castiel stared at him for a very long time.

“A mate is a lifelong partner, Dean. Not the second half of a reproductive equation.”

“You want me to be your _life partner_ ,” Dean intoned. Castiel smiled.

“Yes. Very much. But I understand if you are not interested.”

“Dude, don’t take it personally. I’m just not gay.”

“But you like the stones?”

“I like the stones.”

“And you are not opposed to my presence?”

“Course not.”

“And you would like to continue working together?”

“Yeah, man. I mean. We’re still friends. I just don’t want you to, you know…” Dean gestured with the malachite. “ _Polish_ me.”

Castiel gave him a smile.

“That suits my needs as well. I’ll let Sam know that the confession has gone well.”

And with that, he vanished.  

 

 

For the next three weeks, stones kept showing up on Dean’s pillow. He was developing quite a collection.

Every time a new one showed up, Dean would take it to Sam and they would figure out what the hell it was, and then Dean would write the name and (likely) origin on a notecard and put the stone on the shelf under his machete. Snowflake obsidian, Apache tears, a trilobite, rose quartz, coprolite, (they’d had an argument) white marble laced through with gold, petrified wood. A tiny fish skeleton on a plate of shale. Thunder eggs.

And then one day, a fossil they couldn’t identify. Dean searched for three days and then asked Cas.

Cas said there wasn’t a name for the plant, but they had been common in the cretaceous and their blossoms had smelled beautiful. His eyes got a little faraway when he described it.

 

Dean sat on his bed and looked at the fossil for a long time.

 

The tools in the bunker were made for gross repairs, not fine manipulation, but Dean figured he made it work okay.

Two feet of copper wire and three hours of twisting and cursing later, and Dean had a cat. Kind of. It looked kind of like a cat if you checked from the right angle and you weren’t looking for a particularly attractive cat. It had four legs, pointy ears, and whiskers, and when Cas saw it, he was going to realize once and for all what a talentless fuckup he was courting, and he would almost certainly give up trying.

Dean thought it was probably worth the risk. He didn’t have anything cool to give Cas- everything he owned was a car part or a weapon. So. Shitty twisted-wire cat, it was.  

He went back to his room, left the godawful thing on his pillow, and waited. Like Cas was some kind of weird geologically-inclined tooth fairy.

It took two days for Cas to visit again.

He took the cat and left an emerald.

Dean counted that as a win.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this one in the visitor's center at Acadia national park. Mom, Husband, and Stepdad went for a three hour bike ride. I camped in a corner and wrote this. You're welcome.


End file.
